


calcification

by Anonymous



Series: unrelated nsfw fics [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bottom Bang Chan, Changbin (mentioned) - Freeform, Cock Warming, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Degradation, Kidnapping, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unhealthy Relationships, chan suffers, chan’s kinda still in love :///////, faceless background cast lol, felix is a really terrible person in this, hyunjin (mentioned), i will worldbuild for anything. including porn, magic but its really Really not the focus, please PLEASE read tags and t/cws, rip honestly, they used to be in love your honor, unreliable narrator? kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29814261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Oh, Chris… I don’t want them. I don’t want the city. I only ever wanted you.”(or: the one where the villain wins and takes the hero as a trophy.)
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix
Series: unrelated nsfw fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198034
Comments: 25
Kudos: 100
Collections: Anonymous





	calcification

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i kind of wanted to just post the end bc im not too happy with the rest but like idk full send or whatever
> 
> again. dead dove do not eat  
> cw: {rape/noncon, kidnapping, sex slavery, implied violence, degredation, praise kink, cockwarming, unsafe oral, unhealthy realtionships
> 
> there’s a bit of piss but it’s not a kink, it’s just a thing that happens and no one gets aroused (that scene was inspired by a fic from another fandom but i cant find it :((( maybe it got deleted? idk, if anyone recognizes it lmk).  
> collars. pregnancy/breeding kink but no actual pregnancy. dumbification /implied mind control, predator/prey (for one scene), pain (play?), cumplay, mind games, food (mild starvation / nonsexual feeding)
> 
> also. warping of what chan said to felix on the survival show. sorry :(((  
> at some point chan thinks some of them are dead  
> brief bottom jisung, stomach bulge  
> use of magic to cheat cleaning and stuff  
> minho is also not nice but hes there significantly less than felix so uhhh yeah  
> very brief homophobia (parents kicked child out)}
> 
> hhh thats a laundry list,,, ow. i had a fucking *midterm* the day i wrote 90% of this but brain stupid hornee or sad or whatever
> 
> based + titled on [this tweet](https://twitter.com/chnsredhot/status/1366242203966857216?s=21) by aenphobia. idk if this is even anywhere near what you had in mind but im delirious from my midterm and i just. ran with it alifjla;sdkjflk;asd
> 
> disclaimer i in no way view this fic as a reflection of their actual personalities and neither should you. i dont wish this on anyone. this is complete fiction. i love chan and felix with my whole heart and would never want this to be reality. and like obligatory if you recognize yourself or someone you know in this you should Not read it. Please dont read it. i am Begging. also goes without saying but everything depicted in this is rape it is Not okay, do NOT do it or take it as any kind of sex ettiquette bc it is Not.  
> this is overall fucked up. if you’re not okay with that, you shouldn’t keep scrolling. no redemption here, though i guess the ending could be read as happy.

How did he get here?

That’s such a stupid, _stupid_ thought, but—

Felix’s grip on his chin turns harsh, jagged nails digging into the skin—his eyes alight with power—Chan couldn’t stop him. He couldn’t… he couldn’t do it. Jisung and Changbin lie on the floor behind him and he can’t bring himself to even try to see if they’re alive—he thinks he’d prefer if they weren’t. He doesn’t want them to see this. 

Because Felix won. 

All that time preparing, all that time, he tried, he _tried,_ but it wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough. 

“Channie,” Felix breathes, and he laughs, quiet, sickening. Chan wants to puke. “You told me to find you… I found you.” 

“Felix please,” Chan says, because that’s all he _can_ do at this point. “You’re not well, you—” The white in his veins pulses, and Chan chokes. It’s corruption, he knew it was, he tried to help him, he really did. He really, really did. From the moment Felix touched that cursed stone, Chan knew there was something wrong but Felix wouldn’t let him in, wouldn’t let him help, and now look where they are. The city burning, 

their society in ruins,

and Chan on his knees. 

Helpless. 

His magic is gone, too—Felix bound it, or did something to that end. He and Jisung and Changbin had come to the temple thinking there would be a fight. They were wrong. There was no fight, there was no _chance._ Felix is far too gone, far too powerful, whatever happened to him and whatever he’s learned since leaving them behind is far too advanced for them to fight. His friends, whoever they are, are ravaging the city. Chan can hear the screams from here, despite the temple they’re in being somewhat on the outskirts. 

“Kill me then,” Chan says when he regains control of his voice. When Felix _lets_ him regain control of his voice. “You got what you wanted.”

The surprise is real. Chan’s grateful for that at least. Grateful to see some genuine emotion on Felix’s face. “Oh, Chris… I don’t want them. I don’t want the city.” 

Dread rolls in his gut. Felix lifts him up with barely any effort, immobile and pliant. He brushes his hair back, slides his hand down Chan’s jaw, thumbs over his mouth—Chan tries to recoil but Felix won’t let him. 

“I only ever wanted you.”

-

It wasn’t always like this. 

Chan had been the one to find Felix, when he was eighteen. They became fast friends, and Chan brought him home because even at that age he had dad instincts and Felix had looked hungry, and when Chan’s parents asked where he lived so they could drop him back off, Felix was reluctant to admit that his parents had kicked him out. He wouldn’t say what for. Eventually, he admitted it was because he came out. 

Chan’s parents were understanding, and generous, and they helped Felix continue at his old school and everything. Chan left soon after for uni, but he came back to visit when he could. It helped that his school of choice was within city limits.

There are only a few cities like theirs. Cities specifically for those with magical inclination—normalizing the everyday use of magic, allowing society to advance beyond need for mechanicals. Those cities generally keep to themselves, and if they _have_ to communicate with the outside world, they do it between each other. There are alliances and grudges just like between any mundane countries. Cities you trade with and cities you avoid. 

Chan’s family had always lived in the same one. They were happy there, happy with the ruling system… probably because it placed them high in rank. More power, higher rank. Both of them were obscenely powerful. Chan even more so. So they were especially pleased when Chan turned of age, performed the rank test, and.

Well.

He tested higher than anyone else alive, making him Head of their council. 

At some point in the middle there, he and Felix had a heart-to-heart, confessed a few things, and turned into that one couple who has no concept of PDA shyness. Just, everywhere. Wrapped up in each other. The honeymoon phase, but make it a few years. _We’ll be forever, okay?_

_Promise?_

_Promise. And if we get separated—which we won’t—always come find me, yeah? I won’t leave you behind._

Felix wasn’t really allowed in some of Chan’s work buildings, so he never actually met Jisung or Changbin in a non hostile setting, but they certainly heard plenty about him, since Chan was always a lovesick fool.

But one day, Felix visited anyway. 

He came on their anniversary to give Chan flowers. The guards thought it was cute and Chan had looked stressed that day so they talked it through and Chan, Jisung, Changbin, and a few other high ranking officials agreed that it should be okay. Just this once. 

But there was this object they were studying… Felix must’ve thought it was just a stone. It was no one’s fault, really. Felix was supposed to take a back way but there was construction of some kind so he was led up the front, where they had research materials out, and he just poked at a stone on a table— 

A cursed stone—

And.

At first he was normal. They were relieved. Felix would be okay.

And then the aggression.

He became more prone to anger, on certain days Chan felt like he was just sitting on a time bomb. 

And then he tried to spread it.

It wasn’t intentional, Chan knows that for sure. It was whatever was infecting him trying to infect more. Every brush of skin on skin was a risk. Chan was okay because he protected himself and had the capacity to, but anyone else?

(Felix was the only one who ranked higher than him. The City just couldn’t give him Chan’s position because technically, he isn’t a citizen. His parents rejected him and Chan’s parents never officially adopted him—without a family, he didn’t belong.)

No one else, individually, could stand a chance.

Chan doesn’t know who called the trial. He barely registered arriving. 

He didn’t process any of it, not even when Felix started crying.

(Chan tried to help. He tried. Multiple times. But Felix wouldn’t let him.

Why wouldn’t he let him?)

“Chan,” Changbin said quietly, beside him. “I’m sorry. We can’t… he’s too much of a danger. Of a liability. Unless you think you can contain the fallout...”

It was unfair to ask of him. As much as he loved Felix, he wasn’t _listening,_ he wasn’t letting Chan help. And he was getting worse, too. Whatever it was that’s corrupting him was spreading too fast. At that rate… Chan didn’t know if he could stop it from getting to himself.

He didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t want to lose Felix. God, that was the last thing he wanted. But. He had a duty.

“I’m sorry,” he said, louder. Felix’s head shot up and he stared, but Chan couldn’t even look him in the eyes. “You’re… you’re endangering us all.”

“Chan,” Felix said, disbelief and desperation, and there’s a scuffle but Chan couldn’t bare to look. He couldn’t… “Chan!”

“I’m sorry, Felix,” Chan said. “You need to leave.”

“Don’t. Don’t do this. Chan, _please,_ this is the only home I have, _you’re_ the only home I have—”

“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“Chan, I love you, please—I love you, you can’t do this to me!”

“Take him away,” Chan told the guards, because as much as it pained him—and fuck, it pained him—Changbin was right. The whole council had been right. 

Felix was a danger.

“At least say it back!”

The words rang out, and Chan wonders if he imagined the dead silence that followed. Or if everything really did stop, hold its breath, to see what he’d say. To see what decision he’d make.

“I said, take him away.”

It hurt. 

But it was necessary.

“I thought you loved me.”

Or, at least, he thought it was, at the time.

“I thought you fucking loved me. I gave EVERYTHING to you, Bang Chan!”

Changbin was worried about the fallout if Felix stayed.

None of them could have predicted the fallout of his departure.

-

When Felix wins the war, it’s by a landslide. When Chan falls, his people fall with him. He’s paraded around in actual physical chains, humiliated—the chains are unnecessary, they’re for show. Felix doesn’t need chains to keep him in place. 

At the end of his fucked up parade, Felix pats his head, coos “good boy”, and leaves him, still immobilized, for everyone to gawk at. He doesn’t say what to use him for, but he doesn’t act like there’s any limit, doesn’t say not to touch. 

Not that anyone touches him. 

He’s afraid, at first, that they will. That they’ll strip him and just. Use him. Pass him around. It’s common, when one of the conquering cities takes over another. It’s common to use the leadership in any humiliating way possible. But they don’t. The alternative is… he won’t pretend it’s worse but it’s not really any better. 

The first man that steps forward undoes his pants just enough to take his cock out. Chan can feel his heart racing, purses his lips and clenches his jaw to keep him out, but. He doesn’t try to fit his cock inside. He doesn’t even try to get hard. 

He presses on his bladder, and lets out a sigh of relief when the stream starts. 

Chan flinches away from the hot liquid. Or, well, he tries to—Felix’s spell keeps him in place. It splashes on his chest, rolls down his clothes to pool between his thighs. Some of it even hits his neck. When the man finishes, he steps away, and another takes his place. Again and again. It gets in his eyes. It hits his ear. He makes the mistake of gasping and some sick fuck aims for his mouth. The taste is acrid. 

It drips down his face.

By the end Chan is soaked and trembling, like a wet kitten. He’s stopped bothering to clench his eyes shut because piss inevitably drips down into them anyway—but he keeps his jaw as tight as he can, even when one of them tries to pry it open. It’s fucking disgusting. _He’s_ disgusting. 

“Alright. Back to your celebrations.” 

Chan doesn’t think he wants to know what that means for his city. On one hand, he’s selfishly grateful that it’s over for him. On the other. Some of his people are still staring at him, scared. Pleading for help he can’t give them. And he feels ashamed of his selfishness, ashamed of the state they see him in. He should be trying to help at least. He should at least be trying. 

“What about you?”

Felix looks at the man who spoke. Chan vaguely recognizes him as high ranking, in Felix’s makeshift army. “Don’t feel like it.”

The man accepts that, glancing back at Chan with some amusement. Chan watches him as he goes.

Felix doesn’t touch him when he moves him, and as much as Chan wants that, wants any kind of touch, wants comfort, he won’t ask. He can’t ask. He can’t. 

Felix just looks down at him, amused, and magically flicks his sopping hair off his face. It sticks back to his skull with a wet squelch. “Time to go home.” 

-

Felix magically strips him when they arrive at his. Well. It’s a mansion. There’s no other way to describe it. 

When Chan was head of the city—and fuck, he’s already thinking in past tense, has he given up so easily?—he stayed in a normal apartment, albeit more fortified and very heavily warded. He liked to be amongst his people, and they loved that about him. Felix is different, clearly. 

The bathroom is beautiful, marble and stone and glass, but it’s cold. And when Felix pushes (again without touching) him into the shower, into the steady stream of water, that’s cold too. He can’t help but shiver. “Well?” Felix says, and Chan looks at him, because he doesn’t know what Felix wants. Felix rolls his eyes. Something smacks Chan upside the head. He stumbles, but catches himself on the wall. That stone’s cold too. “Wash yourself, dumbass.” 

Okay.

Okay, he can do that. 

It’s not like Felix hasn’t seen him naked before, he has nothing to be self conscious about. 

There’s soap in a nook in the wall, and he hesitates before reaching for it but Felix doesn’t stop him so he takes that as a go ahead. Some of the piss has dried already, sticky on his skin, and he takes great pleasure in scrubbing it off. He’s so immersed in the task that he doesn’t notice Felix shifting, while watching him, and stepping in to join him under the spray, until there’s hands in his hair and he jolts. 

“Relax,” Felix rumbles from behind him, amused, and Chan wants to cave in on himself. Felix reaches over him for a bottle and in the process brushes against his back—he’s hard. Shit.

He doesn’t seem inclined to do anything about it. Small miracles, or something. He squirts shampoo into his palm and tugs Chan’s head back, smoothing it into his scalp. Lathering it up. It’s soothing.

Chan hates it.

It’s a facsimile of domesticity when he doesn’t want to be here, when he’s being held against his will, kidnapped, if you want to get technical. Half of him wishes Felix would just hit him for real, throw him on the floor and _hurt_ him because at least that way he could draw a line. 

They used to do this, before. Chan had told him how nice it felt to have his hair played with, his scalp scratched. Felix had offered to wash his hair occasionally to take care of that itch. It always led to—Chan would moan, unintentionally, and Felix would do whatever he’d just done again, and Chan would end up pressed against the wall with Felix balls deep inside him, because neither of them could resist the other for long.

But that was then. This is now. Now, Chan clamps his mouth shut and breathes through his nose, refusing to let anything get through. 

Again, Felix doesn’t seem too inclined to make a move. Chan lets himself relax, gradually.

“Why are you doing this?”

Felix’s hands pause.

Chan tries not to bow his head at the silence.

“Because your hair is saturated in piss.”

“You know what I mean.”

An exhale. Then his grip tightens, tugging at his scalp. Chan tries not to whine. “You left me once. I’m just making sure you can’t do it again.”

“So you have me,” Chan says, ignoring the nausea that statement induces. “Will you let my city go?”

Felix laughs. “Why would I? They took you from me. They’re as much to blame as you are.”

“Felix, I—”

“No,” Felix says, firm. “This isn’t negotiable. Besides, that was part of my deal. Minho wanted the city, and I wanted you. Perfect partnership.” He squeezes at Chan’s hair one more time before letting his hands slide down. Down, down. He settles them on Chan’s waist, pinpricks of awareness where their skin touches. “I got what I wanted, he got what he wanted, everyone’s happy. Well. Besides you and yours, but that doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“What happened to you?” Chan asks quietly. He watches the suds disappear down the drain, unwilling to turn back and look him in the eyes. “Why are you… why are you being so cruel?”

He isn’t expecting Felix’s voice to be right next to his ear. He flinches. “You happened, baby. You tossed me aside like yesterday’s trash… and what, you thought I’d just take it?”

“I didn’t—“

“‘Take him away.’” The words are breathed into the nape of his neck. Chan can’t help the shiver. “‘I said… take him _away.’”_

“You were too dangerous,” Chan says, and he knows it’s the wrong thing to say the second it comes out of his mouth. 

He grunts in pain when he’s turned and forced to his knees, the shower water hammering on his back, washing the shampoo down his face and into his eyes. It stings, but he can’t lift his hands to try and wipe it away, they’re stuck where they are by his sides. 

There’s the anger.

“Can’t you be selfish?” Felix hisses, staring down at him. The hunger from before hasn’t gone away. “For fucking once? Think of yourself instead of your fucking city?”

“I c—”

Hands in his hair, yanking, and he chokes off a moan. It’s different from the gentleness before. It’s hateful. 

Chan’s almost glad.

“Did you think I would hurt you?” Felix demands. “Was I a danger to _you?”_

It’s antithetical. The grip he has on him now, the glare, the anger—but they both know the answer. It’s not a lie to say, “No.” Felix, before, would never have hurt him. Ever. 

But things have changed. 

Felix scoffs, mocking. _“No.”_ He pulls Chan closer by his newfound handles, rubs Chan’s face into his crotch. Chan closes his eyes but doesn’t try to get away—he knows it would be hopeless, and doesn’t entirely want to give Felix the satisfaction of “punishing” him. Not this early on. Not when emotion and tension is high. Not when he’s already angry.

Felix lets go of one hand but the other’s enough to keep Chan in place for when he fists his cock, paints precum across Chan’s nose and lips and cheeks. “I don’t trust you not to bite,” he says, and Chan’s jaw is forced open, locked around some intangible magical construct like a spider gag. He strains against it but it does no good. It’s a simple spell. He could break it if he had access to his magic. But he doesn’t.

So he can’t.

Felix smacks his cock against Chan’s face aimlessly, just to watch the way his eyes instinctively flutter. “You look good like this, Channie,” he breathes, letting the tip come to rest just inside Chan’s mouth. “Head of the most powerful city in the world, on his knees… There’s a pun in there somewhere.” The first thrust takes Chan off guard. He chokes, spluttering and gagging, but Felix doesn’t let up, holding him down, nose pressed to his pubic bone. It’s only just barely breaching his throat—Felix isn’t particularly big, or thick, but he’s average—enough that Chan feels it. He scrabbles at the floor, knowing even in his panicked state that scratching at Felix himself is just asking for this to get worse. 

“I’ve missed your mouth,” Felix moans, releasing Chan’s hair. Chan pulls back so hard he falls onto his ass, shuddering breaths wracking his body. Felix doesn’t let him take any longer, curling his fingers and wrapping him in magic, pulling him back up. “Fuck, your lips—you were fucking made for this.” Chan tries to jerk away but it’s, once again, useless. Felix fucks back into his mouth, more using him like a fleshlight than expecting to be blown. It allows him to close his eyes, at least. To try and relax his throat and just let it happen, hopefully to get it over faster. 

And soon enough, Felix is groaning, and cumming down his throat. 

It overflows, because he wasn’t expecting it and didn’t anticipate swallowing. He chokes on it and some of it goes up his nose and the rest dribbles down his chin, until Felix pulls out and it flows freely. He doubles over coughing to try and clear his throat. His eyes water.

Felix clicks his tongue, gently pulling him up to stand, supporting him with magic, and removes the gag. Chan gives one last cough. “Good boy,” Felix coos, kissing his nose. Chan just blinks at him, blankly. The change between… 

It’s giving him whiplash.

Felix tilts Chan’s head back to rinse out the shampoo, then conditions and rinses again, then turns off the water and steps out. Chan stands there, shivering, waiting for instruction. His chin and mouth are still covered in cum. His mind is hazy, he doesn’t think he can process anything right now. 

“Come here.”

He does. Felix dries him off, wiping the cum with a damp washcloth.

He doesn’t give him clothes, which Chan… sort of expected. Chan’s a war trophy, a possession—Felix’s goal will be to humiliate him, to break him down (and Chan hates to admit how successful he’s been after less than a day), not provide for him. 

He mindlessly trails after him back into a bedroom. It’s Felix’s, Chan thinks. There’s even. There’s a picture of them on the dresser. Smiling and happy and together and. Not this. Not whatever they’ve become. 

He looks away before Felix catches him looking. He doesn’t want to know what expression was on his face. 

Longing, probably. 

Loss. 

And then something suddenly rests against his neck, heavy and present. He can’t see what it is when he looks down, but it feels like—

Felix reaches forward and flicks something at the front. It jingles. 

Chan’s stomach drops. Did he put him in a fucking dog collar?

“Cute,” Felix says, tongue between his teeth, lips twitching upward. Deceptively innocent. He flicks his hand and then Chan stands in front of a mirror, staring at his reflection. The collar is thick, black, nondescript. The heart shaped tag on the front says MUTT. Bold, big letters. Unmissable. 

He looks away, blinking back tears. Because he’s already hazy from what happened in the shower, and this is so, so fucking cruel—from someone he loves—

Loved. Loved, past tense. 

He can’t love him anymore. 

He can’t.

For someone he loved, someone who loved him, to do this. All of this. 

He’s tired. 

“Don’t like it?”

Chan mutely shakes his head. He hates it. He wants to rip it off but he’s scared of upsetting Felix and ending up in something worse. Felix has the upper hand here. He has too much of an advantage. 

“Mm. Is that better?”

WHORE.

He watches his ears grow red in the mirror, feels the burn of embarrassment, and one of Felix’s fingers presses between his cheeks, nail scraping over his hole. He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t, dry, would he? No.

It’s cold. Felix’s hands are so, so cold.

“Not better?”

No.

“Too bad.” 

Felix moves away and Chan chases the contact, stepping back subconsciously. Felix laughs at him, and he hunches forward, realizing what he just did. 

“Fitting,” Felix says. The word doesn’t even have the grace to be mocking. He considers him for a moment, then, “You’ll sleep in the corner.” There’s a tug on Chan’s neck and he’s yanked back, onto the ground, which is cold too, hard stone, and when he twists to see what the fuck that was there’s a chain anchored to the ground, now connected to the ring in his… 

His collar. 

Felix throws something at him. It’s a blanket. Paper fucking thin. “Good night, Channie. You’ve had an eventful day. Get some rest.”

The lights go off. And Chan just keeps shivering. Even with the ratty blanket, it’s still. 

So.

Goddamn.

Cold.

-

It takes three days for Felix to touch him again. During that time he only ever approaches him to take him to do his business, and to drop off water or what could dubiously be construed as food. 

He’s doing it on purpose, Chan _knows_ he is because they used to use the same goddamn tactics. Not for this—no government is truly good but Chan’s, at least, never went for human slavery—but for information. For breaking spies and enemy soldiers. Leave a human in isolation for long enough and they’ll crack. Deprive them of friendly contact long enough and something changes, in them. Primal instinct. Chan doesn’t know much of the psychology behind it, that’s much more Jisung’s realm.

Jisung.

Chan misses him and Changbin so much, but there’s no way they’re alive—then again Felix would’ve taken the opportunity to gloat if they were dead, so. Maybe there’s a chance.

Maybe.

He doesn’t allow himself to mourn. Not yet.

They used to leave enemies in dungeons for far longer than this. Chan wonders if the difference says something about them, or Felix, or Felix’s belief in Chan’s willpower. 

Or maybe Felix just doesn’t want him as broken. 

Felix doesn’t drop the usual gruel in front of him today. Instead, he sits cross legged on the ground, just out of reach. “Hey, Chris.”

Chan glowers.

Felix sighs. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’ve been busy.” His tongue pokes into his cheek, and he smiles mischievously. Chan hates how much he melts at that fucking smile. “Your people have been putting up quite a fight.”

And the moment’s gone.

“Fuck you,” Chan spits, but there’s no heat behind it. How can he talk about it so casually? Razing the city he once loved? 

“Mm,” Felix says, eyes trailing downward, and Chan has half a mind to pull back but what’s he going to do with that distance? Hide? Felix will just drag him back out. “I missed you, Chris. I really, really did. Do you know what that felt like? Being… being tossed aside. Abandoned like you were never really loved.” He leans forward. “There were days, in the beginning, where I did want you dead. I wanted to rip you to shreds myself, tear out your heart, because of what you did.” A grin. Sharp, white teeth. “Lucky for you I moved past that.” 

Chan thinks he would have preferred that over this. 

“Now… I just want you here, with me. I want you to never be able to leave me behind. Just like you promised. Even if that promise turned out to be a lie.”

“Felix,” Chan says, quietly. One last ditch effort. “Please let me go. We can forget all this, I’ll forgive you, we can go back to what it was like before, just… please.” 

Felix tilts his head. For a second—the barest second—Chan thinks he’s actually considering it. “All that and you still want to leave me.” 

Fuck. “That’s not what I—”

“You promised me forever, Channie.”

“I know and—and I’m sorry I failed you, I’m _sorry,_ but this—this isn’t the answer.”

“It is. Because if I let you go, you’ll run away. Or you’ll go right back to fighting me. And I’ll have to find you all over again.” 

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. 

Because yeah. He would. Felix’s friends either killed or enslaved Chan’s, and they’re decimating the city he was supposed to protect—he’s angry, of course he is, but he’s too preoccupied navigating whatever the hell Felix expects from him to think too deeply about what could be happening out there. If he was set free, he’d have the time and mental capacity to actually react to it, to really get pissed and try to fix it. 

“See?” Felix says, leaning back. “You know I’m right.”

“You’re hurting me,” Chan gets out. “And you’re going to hurt me more. Is that really what you want?”

Doubt. It’s only there in a flicker before it’s covered up by boredom but it’s _there._ “You deserve it.” 

“It was a mistake—”

“So was touching the damn rock.” 

If Felix hadn’t touched the rock, where would they be? 

Happy, still together, not in danger. Felix smiling, fully smiling, not the half smug look he’s adopted since. In love? Would they be in love? Really, truly in love?

It’s not worth dwelling on. It’ll never happen now. 

His stomach growls. 

“Hungry?”

Of course he’s hungry. Felix has intentionally been underfeeding him—and he knows Chan eats a lot. 

The first thing Felix pulls out are strawberries. Cut into little bite sized pieces, and Chan can see where this is going. Felix lifts a piece to Chan’s mouth. “Open up.”

He doesn’t want to listen, doesn’t want to follow the command, but. He’s hungry. He doesn’t know when he’ll get food next if he refuses. 

He opens his mouth. 

The strawberries are fine. Felix just feeds them to him. But next he brings out peach slices, and Chan tries to be clean but it’s impossible, they drip juice everywhere, on Felix’s hands, on the floor, down Chan’s face. 

And when he’s done, Felix holds his hand out. Sticky with peach juice. It’s clear what he wants. 

“Messy boy,” he chides, when Chan reluctantly takes a finger into his mouth. “The least you can do is clean it up…” 

He does. He sucks and licks each individual finger, trails drops that drip down his palm. When Felix pulls his hand back it’s covered in slobber but there’s no peach juice left. Chan shouldn’t be proud. (But he is. He can’t help it. Felix murmurs a “good boy” and Chan bites back a whimper.) 

Felix wipes his hand on Chan’s hair, saliva sticking his curls down and just generally feeling gross on his scalp. He doesn’t complain. 

“I have to go take care of something,” Felix says. He stands, but hesitates and places something down in front of Chan, within reach. “Good boys deserve rewards.”

Chan doesn’t dare touch it until he’s gone. The second Felix is out of sight he unwraps it with shaking hands to find a rice ball—onigiri—packed with delicious smelling fish. Mouth watering. He doesn’t question what might be in it because if Felix wanted him dead he wouldn’t kill him with poison, wouldn’t go to these lengths just for that end. And if it’s drugs… at least he won’t be entirely conscious through whatever Felix wants from him. He takes a bite, sure to chew slow and pace himself so it doesn’t disappear, and so he doesn’t just puke it back up. It’s so, so good, especially after the mucus-like texture and taste of whatever Felix had been feeding him previous.

He manages to get it all down, and to stay down, and when he goes to lick his fingers he pauses. 

Felix wants to own him, completely, and Chan’s just letting it happen. Why is he just letting it happen? There’s some element of reconciling _his_ Felix with _this_ Felix, and he doesn’t think pushing Felix too far would be good for his health but there has to be a limit of what he can get away with. He can’t just let Felix push him around. His situation is near hopeless but he can’t give up already, he should at least _try._

He’ll try. He can do that, at least. 

-

None of this is their first time. Their first time was tender, loving—they held hands, there were flowers and music, whispered quiet words of affection that linger at the edges of Chan’s memory, at the precipice over what they used to be. He supposes he should be grateful for it. That he has those memories. Because with them, he can write over this. 

This:

Felix comes back angry that night. Angrier than he has been so far. He throws something at a wall, and Chan flinches back when it lands near him. 

Felix startles at the noise, turns to look at Chan like he forgot he was there. 

The food turned out to be undrugged. As far as Chan can tell, anyway, but he’s fairly certain he’s still clear minded. Clear minded enough to be alarmed when Felix gestures and Chan’s transported to the bed. 

He knew this would happen. It was inevitable. There’s still dread in his stomach, his hands still shake—he just wants Felix to get it over with but there’s so much fury in his actions, the way he flings his shirt off, the way he stalks into the bathroom—Chan’s going to take the brunt of that anger, tonight. 

Chan hasn’t been with anyone since he cast Felix out. Out of some derivative of respect, or something, some kind of hang up. It’s been so long, now. 

Felix returns, and glances over, and there’s a rush of something inside Chan, rougher than it usually would be—probably because Felix isn’t bothering to be as careful. They’ve both used the cleaning spell before, he knows what it should feel like. Lubricant, then, coating his insides. Felix shucks off his pants and glances over. “Hands and knees.”

Chan doesn’t move. 

Felix looks back over again, and his expression darkens. “Chan.”

Chan blinks back. 

It’s stupid. This is stupid. He’s just going to piss him off more. 

He goes to turn over but it’s too late, Felix is reaching out and FUCK ow, there’s some invisible ring around the base of his cock that _digs_ in—it’s not a cockring, it feels like thorns and it hurts so bad he writhes on the sheets, letting out loud, involuntary whines. 

“What did I say?”

It’s a struggle but Chan listens this time, barely propping himself up on his elbows. 

“Good boy.” 

Oh. Chan ducks his head at the shudder of arousal, simultaneously tensing as the ring seems to react to it, tightening further. 

The bed dips, and without warning, Felix is pressing inside. 

“No,” Chan gasps, knee-jerk reaction out of surprise, pitching forward, but Felix just yanks him back violently by the hips, grip unforgiving, forcing himself all the way into Chan’s guts. 

“What did you say?” He asks, low and dangerous. Chan shudders, shakes his head, tries again in aborted motions to pull away but Felix keeps him flush to his hips. 

Chan’s fairly certain Felix is doing something to force Chan’s muscles to relax because there should’ve been way more resistance than there is and at least a tiny bit of strain, if not pain. But he doesn’t feel anything but the pleasure and the satisfying pressing presence of something breaching him. 

It’s been a while. 

Their first time was gentle. Soft. Felix took his time to open Chan up, to push in slowly. They didn’t “fuck”, even, Chan would honestly call it making love. In missionary. Staring into each others’ eyes, sappy and loving and. 

The pace Felix sets is brutal. He slams into Chan so hard that he feels bruises forming already where his hip bones collide with his ass. Chan can barely form a coherent thought, drool dripping onto the pillow below him. It’s so much, overwhelmingly so—the ring on his cock and the punishing presence in his ass—

Felix kissed him softly, reached up to intertwine their fingers. He touched Chan’s cock with his other hand, jerking him off in time, checking that it’s as good for Chan as it was for him. 

Then he shifts and _nails_ Chan’s prostate—fuck him for remembering exactly what angle to hit it after all these years—and all Chan’s breath leaves him in a wheeze, his shoulders buckle and his arms collapse, face pressed into the mattress, and the only reason his hips are still up is because Felix is holding them that way. 

“I love you,” Felix breathed, reverent. 

“Mine,” Felix growls, low and dark and possessive. He slams in one last time and cums, groaning, painting his insides white. 

Chan fell over the edge first, crying out, and Felix came shortly after, then pulled out and tied the condom. He kissed him for reassurance before briefly leaving to deposit it in the trash. When he came back, they latched onto each other like the octopi they are and fell asleep with limbs so intertwined they looked as if they were one. 

Felix pulls out and spreads Chan’s ass, watching the cum bubble out and drip down to his balls. Chan’s still achingly hard, but the ring, whatever it is, is still around him, making it painful to be aroused and impossible to cum. “Pretty,” Felix says, amused. He slaps Chan’s hole and Chan yelps. 

Chan half expects to be cuddled when Felix pulls away, finally letting him collapse, boneless. But he’s not _that_ Felix, not anymore. He doesn’t remove the ring on Chan’s cock, doesn’t let him cum, just drops down a good distance from him and waves off the lights, satisfied with Chan’s use. He’s out, soon enough, and Chan would try something, unchained as he is now, if he had any will to move, but his limbs aren’t cooperating and he can barely do anything other than stare off at the curtains obscuring the window. He wonders what would be out there, if he went over and opened them. He wonders if he could escape that way. (He can’t. There are runes lining the thing. Even if they let him through, he wouldn’t get far.) 

He turns to face away. 

He can’t afford to live in dreamland. 

-

It’s a miserable existence, but not a meaningless one. 

Along the way he makes some discoveries. First, Felix has warded his whole room against Chan crossing thresholds, so he can’t even _approach_ the door, or the window. He also has several hundred repellant charms on himself that prevent Chan from approaching him when he’s unaware of it, and some other paranoid combinations that make Chan want to roll his eyes. 

Additionally, Felix and the man he made the deal with—Minho—have some kind of war council. It’s not a permanent thing, it’s not intended to be a ruling class of any kind, but they use it for planning conquests. Chan’s city was their latest. Felix was supposed to move on when it was over, and he’s been grumbling about still being here—so either Minho’s roped him into reluctantly staying, or there’s still resistance out there. Fighting for his people. 

Chan can only hope. 

He also discovers Felix likes when he begs, likes when he’s dumb (playing or otherwise), and _loves_ when he fights back. Out of desire for revenge, maybe. Or to lord over him that Felix is in power here, that Chan can protest all he wants but in the end Felix owns him. Completely. Inside and out. 

Like he said, miserable, not meaningless. He has meaning. He’s Felix’s stress relief, his “meaning” is to take care of him, to warm his bed, to take whatever Felix wants him to take. 

Doesn’t mean he enjoys it. 

He still struggles to see Felix as he is now, when he looks at him. Sometimes he just sees Felix from before. And that plays a large part in his reluctance to fight back because—

He’s had a lot of time for introspection, lately. He’s psychoanalyzed himself back to front and front to back. He’s punishing himself. Subconsciously. Regret for what he did, pushing Felix out, unintentionally turning him into this, this monster… Somewhere inside he believes he deserves it. 

And logically, Chan can’t really argue. 

If they—if _he_ hadn’t cast Felix out, they could have helped him. When it got to that tipping point he would have realized, and he would have come to Chan for help because he would have known he could trust him, he wouldn’t have turned to… to whoever the hell he did, that taught him… 

Chan’s seen him cast blood magic. The kind that eats away at your soul. The kind you can’t come back from. 

Felix as he knows him is gone. This is what remains. 

And it’s all Chan’s fault. 

-

_The roses._

_The music._

_His hands._

_His voice._

It’s a mantra, at this point. Chan desperately trying to relive Before, while Felix insistently pulls him back into Now. _The roses._

The next thrust is harsh, jolting him up the bed. Chan whines quietly, because god it _hurts,_ but Felix giggles and yanks his hair so his head is forced back, every little sound escaping his throat. “Good boy,” he says, and the noise Chan makes in response is guttural, desperate. It’s pathetic. 

Fuck. The music. Think of the music. 

“Hey, at least you’re good for something.” 

He hates that Felix isn’t even winded. 

“We laugh about it sometimes. In council meetings. Big bad Bang Chan, reduced to nothing, reduced to a—” he punctuates it with a slap to Chan’s already reddened ass. Chan moans. He can’t help it. “—fucktoy. Taking care of my cock better than you could your own city—” 

Chan squirms, the small bit of hatred and resentment he’s allowed himself rearing its head. He wants to protest but Felix took away his ability to speak earlier today for back talking with a little too much attitude. He settles for hissing. 

“They keep telling me to bring you, someday. It’s not uncommon for one of us to use a pet for cockwarming during meetings, and they want to see you. See what you’ve become.” The laugh he lets out is nasty. He licks at Chan’s shoulder. Chan wishes he could scrub his skin raw. He thinks his ass is numb, at this point—or maybe he really is just being molded to fit Felix’s cock, because he can barely feel it anymore. It’s too far away. He just wants to drift… 

Felix bites down on his neck and Chan shrieks, yanked back to ground just in time to feel Felix cum inside him, filling him, “just like that,” Felix grunts, moans. He rolls his hips and Chan whimpers. “I wish I could breed you. Pump you so full you just… keep growing… You wanna carry my children, Channie? Good little house husband, all round and helpless...” 

Felix could make it happen. 

They both know he has enough power. 

But he won’t. 

At least. Chan hopes he won’t. 

That’s all he can do. 

Hope.

-

Felix makes good on that promise. Not the… not the pregnancy. Yet. Thankfully. 

But for the first time since Felix brought him here, he’s taking Chan out of the room. And Chan doesn’t even know how long it’s been at this point—he was counting days on the back of a table with the smallest scratches he could manage, but some time ago they just disappeared, and Felix told him to leave the furniture alone. Chan isn’t sure if Felix knows what he was doing or just thought he was aimlessly scratching, but he doesn’t dare try again. 

Still, he doesn’t see the outside. Just more rooms of the mansion. He trails after Felix as close as he can but that doesn’t stop Felix from yanking on the leash sometimes, purposefully making him stumble. It jostles the dog tail plug in his ass right up against his prostate, and Felix takes great joy in watching him try to stifle his reactions. 

They don’t stumble upon anyone while walking, which is good, but then Felix throws open double doors and everyone in the room turns to look at them—

Chan shies back but Felix pulls him forward. There are snickers all around and he knows his ears are red by now. 

“Cute,” someone murmurs quietly. “Look, he’s a little puppy…” 

Chan looks towards the head of the table, where Felix is headed, and nearly pauses when he catches the eyes of the man sitting there. It must be Minho, given Felix’s beeline for him, but Chan’s realizing, now, that he’s seen him before. 

Chan’s fought him before. It was a long, exhausting fight—Minho was a good match, and a very, _very_ good fighter. Chan won, but only barely, and honestly they _both_ came out worse for wear. 

Changbin and Jisung figured out who Minho was pretty quickly—newly appointed head of another city, one typically shrouded in mystery. But they couldn’t figure out anything else about him, including his name. Nor could they figure out what the hell he wanted, why he infiltrated just to lose one fight and slip away, and they couldn’t find enough concrete proof to call for war. Chan supposes this was the answer. He was probing at them, testing what they could do. He must’ve decided they weren’t worth it with Chan in play. Until Felix came along.

“You look like you’ve seen better days.”

Chan holds back a snarl. When he opens his mouth to speak, he can’t. 

“Down, boy,” Felix says. 

Chan goes. 

Reluctantly. 

“Impressive,” Minho says, amused. “I thought he was going to try and bite my head off.”

“Maybe don’t rile him up, then,” Felix says. 

Chan hunches over. 

Felix sits in the chair in front of him, kicks a leg around to press his heel to Chan’s back. “C’mere, pup.”

Chan shuffles forward, huffs into Felix’s inner thigh. 

“Don’t be dramatic.”

Around them, activity resumes. The chatter level rises, and Chan thinks he can hear quiet moaning. Felix had said that cockwarming is common, so he isn’t too surprised, but he is a little… 

It’s strange, is all. 

He sits, quiet and good, Felix’s cock heavy in his mouth, until Felix nudges him up. He blinks in confusion because there are still people around and they’re all looking at him expectantly. 

“Hyunjin’s going to fuck your mouth,” Felix says. 

Chan shakes his head immediately. He tries to verbally protest but Felix still isn’t letting him talk. 

“None of that,” Felix admonishes, nudging him over, but he only shakes his head more violently, digging in, refusing to be moved. “Chan.” It’s Felix’s annoyed voice, but Chan doesn’t care, he doesn’t want a stranger’s dick in his mouth, he barely takes Felix’s without protest, he doesn’t want he doesn’t want he doesn’t—

He gasps, cheek stinging, breathing heavily. Felix slaps him again. It doesn’t hurt any less the second time. “Get up.” 

He clambers shakily to his feet, only for Felix to turn him around and shove him down onto the table. He tries to push back up but there’s a magical weight on his back stopping him. 

“Stay there,” Felix orders. 

The meeting resumes, with Chan still bent over the table. He can see some of the councilmembers surreptitiously getting off, staring at him, and wonders how frequent of an occurrence this is. He doesn’t know how much time passes before Felix fists his hair, lifting his head up to check that he’s awake. 

“You can all cum on him, if you want. Don’t penetrate.”

Small mercies. 

He drifts, while it happens. Some asshole manages to cum on his head and it drips down his face, but other than that it’s fine. It’s fine. 

And then Felix is behind him again, pulling out the plug. He sets it next to Chan’s face, and he can see strings of cum on that, too, wetting the fur. 

Felix doesn’t fuck him. 

He uses a finger to gather up some of the cum on Chan’s back, and push it into his ass. Chan squirms, and Felix spanks him, hard. “Don’t move.”

He stills. 

Felix keeps doing it, continuous motion, until Chan’s skin is practically clean. Then he pulls him up. “We can postpone the other discussion to tomorrow, right?”

“All clear,” Minho says, cheshire grin in the way he looks at Chan. Chan doesn’t have the energy to feel gross. 

And Felix grips his arm and pulls him away, and Chan can’t tell if that’s fear churning in his stomach, or cum. 

-

“You humiliated me,” Felix hisses. “You do not _disobey me_ in front of Minho.” 

Chan shakes his head. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to—” 

Another slap. 

They’re in some kind of forest. Felix didn’t tell him why, but it’s… strange to be outside again. 

“How about this,” Felix says, eyes glowing maliciously. “You want to leave so badly… I’ll take off your bounds and give you a thirty second head start. You get away… I won’t look for you. Ever again.”

A part of Chan cries out at this, because it’s still _Felix._ He can’t just. 

But he has to. 

He has to actually try. 

“If I catch you… you start doing what I fucking tell you.”

It’s rigged, he knows it is, but if there’s even a miniscule chance to get free, he has to take it. 

He has to. 

Felix grins. “Thirty.”

“Twenty nine.”

Chan runs. 

He feels like a fucking newborn dear, legs jelly and magic uncooperative from disuse, but he still runs. The cum is leaking from his hole, down his thighs, and he wants it _off_ and out but he can’t afford to waste magic on it, can’t afford to slow down to wipe it up. 

Mask. Blend. Protect. 

The magic weaves in front of him, comforting. It’s been so long… but he’s good at what he does. He wasn’t named the head of the city for nothing. He’s always been powerful.

The only person who could ever beat him in a fight was Felix. Unfortunately, that’s exactly who he’s up against. 

Felix, minus a conscience. 

Giggles, in his periphery. Something flashing by. 

He stumbles. 

It can’t have been more than five minutes. He’s hoping to stumble across a water source, or a trail, more than he is that he’ll reach the end of whatever forest this is. Something. Anything. 

_Anything._

The realization comes too late. He does a meter radius sweep, and. 

It’s not real. 

The forest isn’t real. 

Of course it isn’t. 

“Good job.” 

Chan whips around but there’s no one there. Of course there’s no one there, there isn’t any there to be in—he falters for a moment, blinks, aligns his vision—it’s an infinite loop. He _is_ in a forest, but he’s not… going anywhere. He’s in one specific part of the forest and it keeps… it’s not similar enough to just be looping but he isn’t leaving it. 

He doesn’t know if he can break the loop spell with Felix watching. 

“I’m tired of this.” 

Something hits his back and sends him tumbling down. Felix bites his neck lightly, like an admonishment. “Why are you so desperate to leave, anyway? I’m here. Don’t you love me? Don’t you want to be with me? You can be selfish here, unlike out there. What can the world offer you that I can’t?”

“My friends,” Chan wheezes, honestly. 

Dignity. An existence outside being someone’s fucktoy.

Felix makes a low noise. “Han Jisung? Seo Changbin?”

Chan doesn’t move. Like playing dead will make Felix shut up.

“I killed them.” 

“No.” He tries to push Felix off him, but he’s dead weight.

“Told them what you let me do to you, too. Told them how much of a slut you are, when you beg for my cock. Their big strong leader—”

“No—”

Chan can’t see, vision blurred by tears. He feels numb all over, enough that he doesn’t hear Felix pull his cock out, barely registers him sliding home. “They didn’t want you, Channie. I told them what you are, and they were disgusted, and then I killed them.”

“No,” Chan sobs, still trying to push away. Felix fucks into him in retaliation. “No, no—”

“You want them over me? When they don’t want you? When they were disgusted that you’d let this happen?”

“Ungg—”

“You would leave me that easily, huh?” Felix says, merciless, pounding into him at a brutal pace. Chan gurgles in response. Felix’s hand finds his neck. The sticks and rocks and dirt dig into his stomach even though they aren’t real. “Leave me again. Abandon me. You’re so needlessly cruel, Channie. What happened to ‘forever’?” 

“Felix,” Chan moans, but he’s twisting, still making an attempt to escape. His magic comes down weakly but Felix fends it off easily. Everything is fuzzy.

“I’m all you need, yeah? I’ll never leave you. I’ll always want you. S’like you promised me. You said you’d never leave me behind.”

“Didn’t abandon,” Chan says, quiet and with what little breath Felix allows. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, anymore. He’s too far gone. “Always. Love—you.”

Felix stops, eyes wide at the admission. Chan can barely think, not getting enough oxygen to really be present in the moment. 

Which is good. Because Felix’s expression shutters, and he pulls out and flips Chan over so his front is exposed. So he’s looking up at Felix with tired eyes.

“Don’t lie to me.” 

Chan screams when the pain hits, like several hundred volts straight into every square inch of his fucking skin. Everything everywhere just _hurts,_ and it hurts and hurts and hurts until black creeps up on the edge of his vision,

and he passes out. Mercifully. 

-

He comes to in a bubble. Someone stands just outside it, and curiously taps it.

It buzzes, electrocuting them, and they run away.

There’s some kind of magic powering a fucking machine at varying speeds. It plows into him at breakneck pace and then slows so much he can barely tell it’s moving. 

He’s on his back, folded in half, ass and machine facing the part of the bubble that opens to the rest of the room. Putting his hole on display. 

Punishment, maybe.

People come by, at varying points. There are some snickers, some pointing and laughing. Lots of arousal. None of them try to approach the bubble, seemingly understanding that this is a view-only display. Don’t touch the art.

Minho is one of the lucky ones that find him. He stands, just outside of the bubble, watching. Analytical. He’s not even hard. What is he doing?

“He broke you so easily,” he says. 

Chan jerks, not expecting that. “Wh—what?” No one’s talked to him all day(?). He wasn’t expecting to be spoken to.

“I expected it to take longer. You have…” He frowns. “You give the impression of strength. Stubbornness. The kind of person who wouldn’t just bend over like this.”

Annoyance flares. “‘T’s not ju-ust... bending over.”

“Yeah, sure, he fucked you once or twice before you gave, but you didn’t even put up a fight, did you?”

He did. He swears he did. 

“Token protests don’t count.”

What the fuck does Minho know?

“You and I match, magically. I know you could weasel your way out of that magic bind he has on you, but you haven’t even _tried._ Either you really are a dumb whore or…” 

Silence. That doesn’t bode well. 

“You still love him.”

No. No, he doesn’t, how could he love Felix after what he’s done to him?

How?

The bind is just… strong. It’s really strong. 

Minho laughs, then. Like he’s just gotten all the answers. “Oh fuck, you really do. All that he’s done to you, everything he’s done to show you you’re nothing more than a toy to him… and you still love him. Bang Chan… your heart really is your weakness. Here, I’ll give you a little something more to live on.” He leans close, grinning. “I have a gift for you. A bit of knowledge you might want. The next time you come to a council meeting, look for me.”

-

That night, after Felix retrieves him and fucks him into the mattress and passes out, Chan closes his eyes, and takes a look. 

It takes him a few hours, but he finds it. There’s a weak link in the spell. 

Minho was right. He didn’t even try. 

It’s not enough to break it entirely, but it’s enough that he can siphon out magic slowly. He isn’t sure the rate and isn’t sure how long it’ll take to get an adequate amount to be able to match Felix, but it’s there. And with it, he can form some semblance of a plan. 

Even if his friends are… gone… he has a duty to his people. And. This isn’t the existence he wants. Felix or no, he can’t keep… he can’t live like this. 

-

It’s a while before Felix decides to take him to another meeting. By the time he does, Chan is practically buzzing in anticipation, trying to tamp it down because he doesn’t want Felix getting suspicious. 

It’s strange, because Chan’s 100% certain Minho’s not on his side, but whatever he has to tell him, if it has anything to do with the taunting that forced him to look past what he now sees to be a perception filter on the magic bind, it has to be good. 

They walk into the room. At first Chan doesn’t see him, and follows Felix blindly, searching, and by the time Felix pushes him down to his knees he’s about to give up, but then. He realizes. Minho’s in his usual seat, he’s just.

Is that… 

Jisung blinks at him blearily, barely able to lift his head, but there’s some spark of awareness there. He’s collared and naked and there’s some kind of chain between his nipples that looks vaguely painful and he’s speared on Minho’s cock, stomach bulging with the tip of it, legs forcibly spread to show off… everything… but he’s _alive._

Chan thought he was dead. Felix had said—

He needs to stop trusting what Felix tells him. 

“Hey.” Fingers snap in front of his face. Felix frowns at him, annoyed. “Well?”

Chan flushes, but he turns to nose at Felix’s dick, ignoring the gaze that burns into the back of his head. Somewhere in the back of his mind he has the presence of mind to be grateful that Minho thought finding this out would just be some kind of taunt. 

-

It doesn’t take much, from what he’s built up, to locate Minho across the mansion from his quarters, and Jisung, in said quarters, alone. It takes a little more to travel there, but he has enough left afterwards to both alert him if Felix is going back and get back on his own.

“Sung,” Chan hisses, so hidden that Jisung jumps from where he’s lying on the bed. “Over here.”

Jisung spots him and immediately tears up. Chan splutters, unsure of what to do, but Jisung just waves him off, wiping his eyes angrily. “How are you—how are you here?” He demands. “Min—the, the man who—” he flushes, unable to finish the sentence, but Chan understands. He remembers the councilroom. Jisung servicing Minho. “He said F—Felix was keeping you in his room or within eyesight at all times.”

“He is,” Chan says. “But I… I managed to... He’s underestimating me, I’ve been able to store the tiniest bit of magic and I used most of it to get here because I had to see you.” 

“You shouldn’t waste—”

“Jisung, please.” 

Jisung shakes his head. “No, you should be saving it. Don’t worry about me, you’re more important.”

“Don’t say that,” Chan hisses, grabbing his hands. “With the two of us we can get out, we just need to figure out a plan. Do you… is Changbin…?”

“I don’t know,” Jisung says, quiet. “I don’t…”

“It’s okay,” Chan says hurriedly. “We’ll get out, and we’ll find him. We just need an exit. There’s wards that prevent magical leaving and entering, I can only teleport within the walls.”

“There’s a door on the North side,” Jisung says. “I heard someone talking about it, cos it’s not warded, so house staff can get in. It’s just hard to get there cos we’d pass a lot of people, and… we’re naked and wearing collars, it’s not like. It’s not like that’s subtle.” 

“Illusion,” Chan says immediately. “Or I could morph something into… I could probably turn the collars into shirts.” 

“Okay,” Jisung says. “Okay, okay. That… as long as we don’t pass anyone from the council meetings because… Minho’s let half of them fuck me, they’d recognize me with or without the…” He falters, pressing a hand to his abdomen. Remembering.

“We’re going to get out,” Chan says. “We’ll get out, and you won’t ever have to see them again.” 

Why does it feel so much like an empty promise?

-

A week or so later, the anticipation gets to him. 

He’s whinier when Felix fucks him, tonight, noticeably so. Felix doesn’t comment. Chan wants to believe it’s luck but he’s still overly cautious when he slips out of the bed. 

He meets up with Jisung at the hallway they’d agreed on, but Jisung’s very obviously limping. “Don’t waste it,” he hisses before Chan can even offer. “Clothes, and then we go, and once we’re out you can do whatever you want.” 

The clothes look normal, he fades both their visible bruises, and they’re on their way. 

It should have worked. 

It almost works. 

But they reach the door, and Jisung reaches out, and he touches the handle and immediately vanishes. Chan panics because that wasn’t supposed to happen, the door was supposed to be unwarded—but he Inspects it and there’s a Recall spell on the whole doorway, antitheft, which wouldn’t affect the staff, it just means—he and Jisung probably both register as property to it, so Jisung must’ve been sent back to—

“Channie,” Felix coos, out of nowhere, setting his chin on his shoulder. Jisung touching it must’ve triggered an alarm. Chan tenses.

“Get off me.”

Felix actually does, out of surprise. Chan turns to face him, throws up a barrier. Behind himself, he quietly twitches the fingers of one hand, slowly, slowly picking at the spell. “Well,” Felix breathes, annoyed. “I see you have your magic back.”

“Did you really think you could hold me?” Chan asks. Almost… 

Felix shrugs. “Yeah, actually.” He tilts his head. “Did you?”

 _He can hold me._ What? “No.”

Felix frowns, head tilting further. 

_I love him… I can’t leave him again._ His fingers slip, missing a knot, just as he almost finishes untangling the damn thing. 

“Come back to bed, Channie,” Felix says. 

The spell breaks. 

Felix sees it the moment it does, face twisting into fury but Chan’s already out the door, crashing into underbrush, sprinting and ignoring the twigs that scrape at his arms, his face. 

It’s not the same forest as before. This one’s finite. There’s an end. There’s an exit. 

He just has to make it there first. 

But then.

He doesn’t know what happens. 

One second he’s running, the next he’s suspended, dizzy, hanging by the ankle. It’s just a rope. He cuts it and crashes to the ground. It’s enough, though. Enough for Felix to catch up. 

He blocks spell after spell, sends them back in volleys just as strong. Felix is seething in anger by now, expression promising pain, but Chan won’t go back. He won’t. 

_Why would I hurt him like this?_

GET. 

OUT. 

OF.

MY.

HEAD.

Felix reels back, stunned, defense lowered for long enough that Chan sends a stun spell he can’t deflect, turns heel and sprints away. How long has he been there, and Chan just didn’t notice? The perception spell on the magic binds, the continued… does he really still love him? Can he really still love him?

Which of his thoughts are his own?

The love’s still there, he thinks. It’s just not strong. Definitely not strong enough to convince him to stay as. As a literal sex toy. His head is clear for the first time in a while and his only thoughts are of _leaving._

He doesn’t get far. 

“You’re so much _trouble.”_

He appears out of nowhere, and Chan slams into him but despite his seemingly thin stature he just catches Chan by the wrists. Eyes glowing white. “Let me go,” Chan says, desperate, kicking at him, digging his nails into... his skin. No, no—his mind, he needs to protect his—

His mind. He needs to protect his mind. 

His magic’s depleted, he used too much forcing Felix out, he doesn’t… 

He can’t… He’s already… getting… sluggish. He has to.

Has to.

Something… 

… 

Something about…

Running? 

… 

Words are.

So hard.

Mm. 

Hard. 

He blinks. Haaard. 

He wants it in his mouth. 

He doesn’t have words to talk because words are hard. 

So… something else hard? 

Inside him? Instead?

His mouth waters at the thought. 

Felix pulls Chan flush to his body. His words are a tightening noose around Chan’s neck, flooding his mind. Thick and syrupy… Felix hums, approving. That’s good. Chan likes it when Felix is happy. 

Why was Chan even running? What was he thinking? Why did he want to leave? Felix gives him everything he could ever need. And anyway, there’s nowhere for Chan to run that Felix can’t chase him to. There’s nowhere he could go. 

Nowhere he could hide.

So instead he leans into his touch. Moans into his kiss. Lets his eyes glaze over when Felix pulls him back to their room, yanks off his clothes, setting them on fire with a snarl about how he won’t need them anymore, and shoves himself inside, punishing. It’s painful, but Chan’s used to it by now. It’s good because Felix is happy, and when Felix is happy, Chan’s happy. 

There’s a smile in Felix’s voice, but Chan can’t tell if it’s real because his face is being shoved into a pillow, ass yanked up. He doesn’t protest. He doesn’t complain. Just lets himself be manhandled like a ragdoll. Fucked within an inch of his life. Used. It makes Felix happy, he thinks. He should be making Felix happy.

“Chris, baby…” Felix moans, hand around Chan’s throat. “Don’t go anywhere. Don’t leave me. Okay?” 

“I won’t,” Chan says, dreamily. “I’ll be here. And. And if I go… you can always come find me. Wherever I am.”

Felix smiles down at him, satisfied and sated and smug. He’d come inside Chan, at some point, but Chan just. Hadn’t noticed. He blinks up, slowly. Molasses. “You’re right. I can.” Felix stays there, and Chan hums happily, clenching down on the presence inside him. It’s comforting. Being connected like this. Being full. “You know… I didn’t want to do this, baby… I wanted you to still be yourself. As much as you could be.” Chan doesn’t know what that means, is he not himself? What is he missing? Felix twitches a little inside him. “Oh, poor dumb mutt… you don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?”

Chan whines, tries to pull Felix closer. He doesn’t know what that means. He’s losing the will to understand. 

“I’ll miss that spark, Channie. But this is better, isn’t it? You like just being my dumb little cocksleeve, hm?”

He does. He does he does he does. 

“Good boy.” 

Yes. Yes he is. He’s a good boy. 

He’s a good boy when he stays still, when Felix rocks into him again, pulling out all the way to admire his raw, puffy hole. He’s a good boy when Felix keeps him plugged by his cock all day, so full of cum it churns when he moves. He’s a good boy when Minho finally tracks down the last remaining force of resistance, brings someone Chan thinks is familiar who Minho calls “Changbin” to his knees in what’s becoming a throne room, forces him to watch in horror as Felix fucks Chan stupid. 

He’s a good boy when Felix deposits him on the council floor, tells the other councilmembers they’re free to use him as they wish, because he’s tamed now—and he wants so badly to be good he can only moan even when two of them press their way inside at once, big. Bigger than anything he’s taken before. And Felix watches from the sidelines. 

Hungry. 

And when Chan can barely move, when Felix has dismissed the meeting and pressed back inside with barely any resistance, laughing at how loose he’s gotten, he clenches to the best of his ability, to make it good for him. Because he’s Felix’s good boy. He’s Felix’s toy to use for pleasure. His fleshlight.

In the end, Felix still wins. 

But that’s okay. 

Chan can live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for making it to the end lol? i think.
> 
> i am inFUCKINGcapable of writing anything shorter than 10k i s2g. was this not supposed to be just straight up porn??? smh
> 
> this is depraved im sorry also i havent written smut in *counts on fingers* uh three years?? idk its been a while :^) hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhn
> 
> basically for a bit i tried not to write skz smut bc like. gotta draw the line somewhere right? anyway. that lasted. floodgates are open now. oops 
> 
> i’ll probably be keeping my nsfw stuff anonymous tho. a few of my irl friends know my ao3 account so… yeah  
> -zero <3
> 
> (i did make a nsfw [twt](https://twitter.com/chnbnsvng) just for this tho so. idk yell at me for my moral depravity or smth.)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/chnbnsvng)


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